I had a secure middle-class upbringing. My sister and I always had a place to stay and decent food on the table. I had rebellious clothes, had long, blue hair like Kurt Cobain, and drank Coca-Cola while the rest of the kids drank water from the pipe.
It was all a fake illusion back then.
Since I ‘ve woken up to a point and embraced uncertainty, here are a couple of things I’m seeing differently about the old days of my pretty face.
1. Everybody kind of likes you but it’s impossible to create deeper relationships
You don’t get sincere feedback as a pretty face. Especially if you’re closed down by shame like I was. I was the walking iPhone. Most of the crowd just liked to have me around like a nicely designed toy without bothering to really check out my applications. And I take the full credit for this. My keyboard was locked with a long PIN code.
2. People enjoy your lightness but nobody gives a fuck about your darkness
I’ve used to hide my anger, rage, bittnernes, hate, jelauosy and sadness. To put it more bluntly, I didn’t place my trust in anybody to share these sides of me. Instead, I just stayed cool, detached, and easygoing so nobody could see my uglyness. I was programmed like I could get everything I want without sacrifice and work.
Here’s a nice image to describe it: If I wanted to fly I didn’t bother thinking about the landing or the technical/mathematical aspects of being in the air and depending on gravity. I just thought I was Peter fucking Pan. People liked that mystery and lightness. I suffered for years.
3. Bipolar Confidence
I overdosed people with this lightness so they expected the best from me. And I played the cool guy until I cracked. Everything was neat and tidy on the surface. But on the inside, I was screaming like a wounded crow.
Then came my 30s. Everybody got their jobs, careers, and titles. I was the same cool guy. Starving artist. So I started to work in bars and restaurants to feed myself and pay my rent. I learned more about life after three months in a corporate-led restaurant than in any of my schools, from cool friends, or at artsy happenings.
4. You get away easier from the pain
I didn’t learn to take the full responsibility for my deeds and actions. I was the Pretty Face. Nobody blamed me for shit. When I stole those candies or smashed the glass at City Hall I was the Pretty Face from the nice family. If a not-so-pretty-face-from-a-poor-family did it, they would be held in a prison for years.
I was programmed to escape pain whenever it was possible. But this is the easy way out. Pain eventually hits you. When it really hit me, I was so unprepared and soft that it almost tore me apart.
5. Nobody remembers your Soul
Sure, they all remember your face and maybe some fake stories about you. You get good tips and likes.
Nothing wrong with that. But there’s nothing like having a strong, passionate, and unique attitude about something. It’s a powerful driver. I didn’t stand for shit. I couldn’t decide between two socks—let alone bigger issues. You get what you give. I got bunch of unpaired socks.
6. Girls don’t pay attention to what you’re saying
They just watched me because they thought I was cool. This made me believe that everything I said had no other value. I had to learn how to speak with my full voice and clear intention to get anywhere with girls.
It has been said that a pretty face is a passport. But it’s not, it’s a visa, and it runs out fast. –Julie Burchill
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